You are Gil Wallace. You are a normal guy made out of beetles and also the shapeshifting substance goo. You are currently aiding and abetting your boss/friend Lottie's scheme to blow up Headspace, a shitty company that makes shitty loci. Or you think you're aiding and abetting? Lottie has gone missing (again), and she's left you no instructions. Thank god you're being haunted by your distant cousin Teddy: without his cool-guy presence, you'd be in a real panic.

Right now, you are face to face with the diving-suited Anthea Aves, a woman you've only encountered before in passing. She claims that Headspace is going to explode. It is, but you have no idea how she knows that.

At least you're beetles, right? Anthea's one eye is looking straight at you— not that there's anything wrong with having only one eye— unless she does have two, and one's obscured by the smoke? You can't tell. You're getting distracted. You were saying: she's looking straight at you, and she can't even tell you're ogling her messed-up face. She can't tell anything. She's talking to a faceless black-eyed wall.

Bonus: when you don't respond right away, it seems ominous, not like you're scrambling desperately for a response. Of course you know Headspace is going to explode: you're going to be doing the exploding. Or Lottie is. Probably Lottie. You'd wonder how this lady knew, except Lottie's also been blithering out the details to everybody she talks to, pretty much. Tell the plan to the bitch who shot you in the head? Sure, fine, whatever. None of your business. Until she sends a diving suit out to flamethrower you to death.

<span class="mu-i">I wouldn't jump to conclusions.</span>

You were joking, Teddy. Okay, half-joking. You know nothing about this Aves lady, except you think she was one of those bleeding-heart spelunkers. Doesn't bode well, in your opinion. Your expert opinion. You with your risk-assessment certificate up on the wall. You can't say you're good at nothing, because you're good at this: sitting and <span class="mu-i">assessing</span> and spinning in circles. You don't seem ominous, do you? You're goddamn beetles. You seem brainless— empty. Look, half of Anthea's face is frowning. "Gil? I'm sorry, I know it's— maybe I should've disclosed it more tactfully. I'm sorry if I scared you. As long as you leave now, I don't think you'll be in danger, so there's really no reason to worry—"

No reason to worry. Ha-ha. If you don't say anything, maybe she'll think you died. You wish you didn't need more information. "Um, thanks. Good to know."

"Of course! I'm just glad I recognized you! I thought... is Charlotte here?"

Goddammit. "Why do you ask? Why are you, uh— sorry, uh— what was that about Headspace exploding? Why i-i-is— why would it be exploding? I-if you know?"

Not your smoothest transition. Anthea doesn't seem to notice. "Oh my goodness! Yes. I'll, ah, keep it brief. Ellery, my friend... do you know him?"

You were him. You're not sure what that counts for. "Some?"

(1/3?)